


Best Friend

by sandydoesntfindmesexy



Category: Ocean's 8 (2018)
Genre: F/F, Flashbacks, Love Confession, Music, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-27 01:59:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17757641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sandydoesntfindmesexy/pseuds/sandydoesntfindmesexy
Summary: "She needed to get out. She needed a change of scenery, some warmth, some California sun, different people – anything to make her forget Debbie Ocean."Based off the vodka scene, where we meet Lou for the first time.





	Best Friend

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very first fic, I'm so excited! It's also my first serious attempt at writing anything that is not for academic or journalistic purposes, so please bear with me. I had fun getting to use adjectives for once.

“What crate are you on?”

Lou flipped through the pages of a magazine, one that had been lying on the desk in her office at the club for months. She stopped at the double-page spread showing an open California highway, a lone biker conquering the winding road through the lush forest. How desperately she wanted to be there, on the road, the warm and humming leather seat of her bike between her thighs, instead of here.

Here, in her club, which she loved and poured all of her heart into, but which didn’t throw off quite enough money to make a comfortable living, which is where the watered-down vodka came into the picture.

She didn’t really want to be here, in New York City, where every damned street corner reminded her of Debbie, of all the cons they had pulled together, of their small Brooklyn apartment they lived in for years, of the big empty loft she now inhabited that just never felt complete and finished, no matter how often she rearranged the furniture or hung a new piece of art on the walls.

She didn’t want to be here, on the east coast, where even the spring was so cold that she was beginning to wonder if her heart would ever feel like anything else than a small, but heavy clump of ice again.

She needed to get out. She needed a change of scenery, some warmth, some California sun, different people – anything to make her forget Debbie Ocean.

“Guys, it’s nine-thirty.” Lou snapped back into the real world in front of her when her eyes focused on the vodka bottles her employees were filling. “It’s too much. It’s too much!” She got up with a sigh and strode over to the large table in the middle of the stockroom. “It’s three fingers from the top, not one, it’s three.”

April really needed to stop watching Judge Judy and focus on her task. She was a sweet girl though, so Lou decided not to scold her.

“What’s that taste like?” she asked her, handing her a bottle cap filled with liquid out of the large glass bottle.

“Vodka, exactly. But I don’t want vodka.” She gently wiped a drop that had spilled from the girl’s mouth off her chin. “I want vodka, and water. Cause when you’re drunk, it tastes like vodka.”

After making sure April had finally caught on to her mission, Lou glanced back to the magazine spread left on the cart she had sat on before. The room suddenly seemed unbearably hot to her, the stench of the alcohol permeated from the open vodka bottles and sent a painful sting to her head. She turned to head back into her office, when Judge Judy suddenly yelled, “I don’t care!” Lou stopped dead in her tracks.

_Debbie’s body was pressed up against hers, partly because Debbie was struggling to not fall off the narrow couch they had crashed on, partly also because she craved the warmth and comfort that Lou exuded. At least Lou liked to think that._

_Judge Judy was yelling at someone in the background, the small coffee table in front of the couch was crowded with two large glasses of water, a packet of Advil, a half-dozen wallets and a few pieces of expensive looking jewelry they had picked up the past night. They were both morbidly hungover and respectively nursing their pounding headaches._

_“I should have said no to that seventh martini,” Debbie grumbled into the fabric of Lou’s t-shirt._

_“Oh, you actually kept count?”_

_They had run one of their usual cons, going to a club to swipe wallets and whichever other valuables that looked attractive and might bring in some cash to pay the rent. Over the years they had become such a good team that they could communicate with split-second glances, could predict each other’s every move and noticed immediately when there was trouble and their partner needed help._

_The past night there hadn’t been trouble though, in fact, they had gathered so many valuables so quickly that they had decided to call it quitting time and actually have some fun._

_A few drinks later, they had been embarrassing themselves on the dancefloor with the craziest moves they could come up with. A few more drinks later,_ Wild Horses _had played, and Lou had pulled Debbie into her arms and held her impossibly close as they swayed back and forth, her hands on Debbie’s lower back right above her gorgeous ass, her nose buried in the Ocean’s lush dark waves._  

The hammering base from downstairs pulled Lou back to reality. She scolded herself for being so unfocused and absent-minded. She wondered briefly if Debbie remembered that night and if that memory had any significance to her. It hadn’t been anything out of the ordinary, just a typical Friday night, but somehow it still stuck with Lou.

Maybe there had been a few too many of those typical Friday nights, maybe that’s why Debbie had gotten bored with their little club-cons, had gotten bored with their life, had gotten bored with _her_ , Lou, and had finally left her for… Lou caught herself letting out a quiet growl at the thought of him. 

Debbie probably didn’t care about any of the memories they had built together, she didn’t care about Lou, she probably hadn’t even thought of her much during the past five years, and why should she have? She had chosen to leave, and they hadn’t had any contact since that goddamned day Debbie had walked out the door and Lou had smashed their living room lamp against the wall before curling up into a trembling ball on the hard wooden floor, and that had been months before Debbie had gotten herself in trouble with the certified asshole she had fallen for.

Lou desperately needed some air. She pulled herself together, straightened her favorite black leather jacket and marched down the stairs to the main floor of her club. She made a point to casually stride towards the back door, despite her chest tightening up with every step and her head pounding in synch with the heavy base. She reached the door and flung it wide open, stepped out into the courtyard and sucked in the cold night air.

After a few deep breaths, she steadied herself and leaned against the doorframe, fumbling through her pockets in search of a cigarette and her favorite lighter. Her hands shook slightly as she lit the object of her desire, inhaled deeply and finally let the smoke escape her lungs.

_“Hey, what the hell is this? I thought you wanted to go cold turkey?” Debbie plucked the half-smoked cigarette from Lou’s lips, stubbed it out on the brick wall behind her and flicked the butt over the railing of the balcony._

_Lou groaned and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well, apparently it’s harder than you think.” She peered over the railing, as if expecting to catch a glimpse of the remainder of her cigarette that now laid somewhere on the street three stories beneath her. “What a waste.”_

_Debbie ignored Lou’s observation and stepped back inside the apartment to unpack the Chinese takeout she had brought home. She watched Lou still hanging her head over the railing in mourning of her cigarette and shook her head. “You know you’re not going to live past sixty-five if you keep up those smoking habits of yours, right?”_

_A small huff was all she got in response, but at least Lou finally came inside and sat down at the kitchen table. They both dug into their food and enjoyed it silently for a while, until Debbie suddenly cocked her head and studied her partner with a mischievous grin. “I know something that will make you stop.”_

_“And what would that be?” Judging by the look on Debbie’s face, Lou was not going to like the answer._

_“As long as you keep smoking, we’re not having sex.”_

_Lou burst out into laughter. “Isn’t that as much a punishment for yourself as for me? Why would you do that to yourself?”_

_Debbie rolled her eyes. “Believe me, I would be just fine.”_

_Lou raised her eyebrows mockingly. “Oh, would you? Seriously though, why does it suddenly bother you so much? It’s not like I haven’t been smoking for years.”_

_Debbie shrugged, shoveled another portion of noodles into her mouth and mumbled, “Well, I’d actually like you to make it past sixty-five because I plan on living longer than that and I’d want to have you around.”_

_“Oh, really?” Lou smirked. “You’d like to have me around? And why’s that?”_

_Debbie rolled her eyes again and briefly contemplated a sassy retort along the lines of that she would need someone with whom she could rob a pharmacy for arthritis medication. But instead, she looked right into Lou’s unnervingly deep blue eyes and with a small, playful smile on her lips said, “Because I love you, Lou Miller.”_

She never smoked again after that day. That is, until Debbie left her. After that it just didn’t seem to matter anymore.

Lou stubbed out the rest of her cigarette. She let one last cloud of smoke escape her mouth and leaned sideways against the doorframe, hands dug deep into the pockets of her red leather pants. She gazed out over the harbor at the lights of New York City. It had been about five years and eight months now since Debbie had been sentenced. Tammy had called Lou to deliver the bad news.

_“She’s in for six years. I’m so sorry, sweetie...”_

_“Tam, I haven’t talked to her in months, I really don’t care what she –“_

But, of course, she had cared. She had always cared too much, at least more than Debbie had, apparently. Lou had sworn that she would not keep track of how the time passed, but she just couldn’t help it, and after a while she gave in and just accepted the fact that she would henceforth measure time by how long it would take until Debbie got back out. How long until Debbie maybe showed up at her door step.

“Not going to happen,” Lou muttered bitterly and rolled her eyes at herself and her stubborn inability to move on and finally forget about Debbie. She thought back to the magazine she had looked at earlier. Debbie might be out of prison in a matter of weeks. Maybe it would be good if Lou turned her back on New York for a while. That way she could prevent herself from hanging around the loft all the time, praying that Debbie would somehow find out where she lived, waiting for that knock on the door. Waiting for an apology that would probably never come, because it was Debbie Ocean, and Debbie Ocean never admitted to making a mistake.

Lou swallowed hard at the thought of not being there in the event that Debbie did actually show up. She didn’t even know how she would react if she saw her again. Would she be all cool and collected and stuff her emotions down her throat as usual? Would she scream at Debbie for having the audacity to be looking for her after all these years? Would she simply close the door in her face?

Deep down, Lou knew exactly what she wanted to do. She wanted to wrap her arms around Debbie and pull her as close as humanly possible and feel her heartbeat against her own, and bury her hands in her thick, dark hair and slam her against the closest wall and –

Lou prevented her mind from going any further. Her throat felt tight and she blinked furiously to keep the tears from slipping down her cheek. Goddammit, she couldn’t take this anymore. In a few days, as soon as she had found someone to watch the club for her, she would hop on her bike and make a beeline for California. She took a deep breath to steady herself and nodded. She finally needed to get out of here, finally needed to get over Debbie.

_I think that I'll keep loving you, way past sixty-five_

Lou was just turning to go back inside, when the realization of which song had been playing the entire time hit her like a ton of bricks.

_We made a language for us two, we don't need to describe_

Oh, for fucks sake.

_Every time you call on me, I drop what I do_

Her phone dinged. She took it out of her back pocket and checked the screen. When she saw the message, she stopped herself just in time before she could hurl her phone across the courtyard.

_You are my best friend and we've got some shit to shoot_


End file.
